The modified soliloquy to the dagger as written in my modified version of the original. . .
Macbeth. [to servant]
Go tell Lady Macbeth to get me a drink and to ring the bell when it's ready.
Meanwhile, go to bed.
[The servant leaves and Macbeth sees a floating dagger in the air.]
What is that thing. A dagger?
The handle is close enough for me to touch it.
Thank goodness it is pointed away from me.
This could be dangerous.
Let me touch it, if only to see if this is a dream,
a vision, an hallucination,
or some nasty trick someone is trying out on me.
Ha! There is no substance to it.
It must be a hologram making a quantum leap
from somewhere else because I can't touch it,
but I can still see it.
At least, I think I see it.
What's the problem, dagger.
You like to play see but don't touch.
[Humph! That sounds just like Lady Macbeth herself.]
Maybe you are just a figment of my overactive imagination, eh?
Geez, you look as real as the dagger here by my side.
Whoa, there.
You seem to be floating towards the king's bedroom,
where I intended to go later.
And you are the very weapon I intended to use.
How did you know?
My senses deceive me.
My eyes see you,
but the other senses cannot perceive you at all.
Good grief!
There is blood all over your blade and handle.
It wasn't on there when I first saw you, was it?
I don't think so.
But, then,
I am not all that sure I even really see you at all.
Okay. Enough is enough.
I know this sort of thing just doesn't happen.
It is my sense of guilt
before the act t
hat is making my imagination play tricks on me.
Half the world is asleep right now
and most of the sleepers are having nightmares, probably.
Witchcraft runs rampant all over, a
nd murder is witnessed by the howling wolves,
and spirits of bodies
supposedly drift all around.
It is dark;
this is the time to do it
when there will be no witnesses.
If I am going to do it, t
his is the time.
I am ready;
death is ready;
Duncan is ready;
and you,
my trusted dagger, are ready.
Oh, mother earth.
Do not hear my steps
or note which way they walk
so even the stones won't know which way I've gone
or what I've done.
This is the best chance
and maybe the only time
I will ever have to kill the present king
so I can be the future king, myself.
So long as I only threaten,
he will live.
Idle threats mean nohing.
I must do it and do it tonight.
Words only cool off the intent.
[A bell rings. It could be his drink is ready,
or it is the signal to go to Duncan's room.]
I am going, now; it's about time.
I hear a bell;
I hope you don't, Duncan,
because, by that knell,
you go to heaven and I to hell.
[He leaves to go kill Duncan.]
Poetry by NotaDeadPoet
Read 946 times
Written on 2007-01-21 at 00:15
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Macbeth, Act II, sc.i Soliloquy to a Dagger
Macbeth. [to servant]
Go tell Lady Macbeth to get me a drink and to ring the bell when it's ready.
Meanwhile, go to bed.
[The servant leaves and Macbeth sees a floating dagger in the air.]
What is that thing. A dagger?
The handle is close enough for me to touch it.
Thank goodness it is pointed away from me.
This could be dangerous.
Let me touch it, if only to see if this is a dream,
a vision, an hallucination,
or some nasty trick someone is trying out on me.
Ha! There is no substance to it.
It must be a hologram making a quantum leap
from somewhere else because I can't touch it,
but I can still see it.
At least, I think I see it.
What's the problem, dagger.
You like to play see but don't touch.
[Humph! That sounds just like Lady Macbeth herself.]
Maybe you are just a figment of my overactive imagination, eh?
Geez, you look as real as the dagger here by my side.
Whoa, there.
You seem to be floating towards the king's bedroom,
where I intended to go later.
And you are the very weapon I intended to use.
How did you know?
My senses deceive me.
My eyes see you,
but the other senses cannot perceive you at all.
Good grief!
There is blood all over your blade and handle.
It wasn't on there when I first saw you, was it?
I don't think so.
But, then,
I am not all that sure I even really see you at all.
Okay. Enough is enough.
I know this sort of thing just doesn't happen.
It is my sense of guilt
before the act t
hat is making my imagination play tricks on me.
Half the world is asleep right now
and most of the sleepers are having nightmares, probably.
Witchcraft runs rampant all over, a
nd murder is witnessed by the howling wolves,
and spirits of bodies
supposedly drift all around.
It is dark;
this is the time to do it
when there will be no witnesses.
If I am going to do it, t
his is the time.
I am ready;
death is ready;
Duncan is ready;
and you,
my trusted dagger, are ready.
Oh, mother earth.
Do not hear my steps
or note which way they walk
so even the stones won't know which way I've gone
or what I've done.
This is the best chance
and maybe the only time
I will ever have to kill the present king
so I can be the future king, myself.
So long as I only threaten,
he will live.
Idle threats mean nohing.
I must do it and do it tonight.
Words only cool off the intent.
[A bell rings. It could be his drink is ready,
or it is the signal to go to Duncan's room.]
I am going, now; it's about time.
I hear a bell;
I hope you don't, Duncan,
because, by that knell,
you go to heaven and I to hell.
[He leaves to go kill Duncan.]
Poetry by NotaDeadPoet
Read 946 times
Written on 2007-01-21 at 00:15
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
